Hedwig's Autobiography
by Potter fanwriter 32
Summary: An autobiography written by Hedwig the Owl. My first fanfiction. Please review! **I do not own Harry Potter (as much as I wish), those rights belong to J.K. Rowling**
1. Eeyelops, Privet Drive, and Harry

Chapter 1: Eeyelops, Privet Drive, and Harry

Day by day people would enter Eeyelops Owl Emporium and gaze at the many owls-barn owls, screech owls, tawny owls-even a large eagle owl. But I was currently the only snowy owl. Children selecting owls to take to school with them would always stop by my cage and plead their parents to buy me. But their parents had their reasons of saying no.

"She'd be so recognizable," one mother said, and, "Snowy owls cost a lot more than the other owls, why not one of those?" and the child would indeed leave with a different owl. Like the redheaded mother and her son who had come into the store a few days back, the boy who had expressed interest in me. The mother had answered, "Yes, Percy, she is a beautiful owl but we have your brothers and sister to put through school too." They left with a screech owl who had arrived the day before, who I might add was my friend Hermes. I'll talk more about him in a later chapter of my story.

I had been asleep, with my head tucked under my wing, when the door of Eeyelops' had opened and a small, pale-faced boy with a pointed face and blond hair slicked back entered with a tall man with long white-blond hair and a woman. I didn't like the looks of any of them, to tell the truth, but stretched my wings after my nap and sat up.

The nasty-looking boy passed each owl cage, poking at prodding the owls. Many of owls expressed their annoyance with annoyed hoots. "They're all run-of-the-mill owls," the boy said, sounding disappointed. "What about the snowy one, Draco?" the mother asked, her beady little eyes boring into me. I bored my yellow ones back at her. She snorted and turned away.

"I don't want the snowy one," Draco said flatly. _Thank God, _I thought. "I want that one." Draco pointed to the large eagle owl that had come in a week or so, the one who thought he was too good for the rest of us. _A perfect match, _I thought, resuming my sleep.

But later, a giant man with a long, tangled black beard and a huge coat came in with a small, thin boy, with tousled black hair, glasses, and brilliant green eyes. He didn't look like the usual boys who came in the store. Seeing potential owl-buyers, I ruffled my feathers up a bit and gave a tiny hoot so they'd notice me.

"Well, 'Arry?" the giant man asked. "I don't know which to pick," the boy said, his eyes gazing over the owls. The man chuckled. "Well, it's yer owl, 'Arry." When Harry passed over my cage, I hooted again, a little louder. His eyes stopped. "Hello there," he said. I hooted back excitedly. The boy held his hand out for me to sniff, as if asking permission to pet me. _Well, this kid has more owl etiquette than all the other kids put together_, I thought happily. Usually all the other kids just stuck their fingers in my cage, usually startling me.

"I'm Harry," he asked, petting my feathers. "Would you like to live with me?" I hooted and Harry smiled. "Hagrid," Harry said, "I want this one." I waited for the giant to say I was too recognizable or too much money (why do snowy owls cost so much, anyway?) but he just said, "All right, 'Arry, if yer sure she's the one ye want." "She is," Harry assured him. I was so happy I could burst. I finally had an owner, to talk to me and pet me and take care of me, and whose letters I could deliver. Harry and Hagrid left Eeyelops with me, and I fell into a happy sleep. ...

On the way back, Harry rubbed my head gently as he talked to me. I wondered what kind of a family he had and where he lived, and if he was taking me to Hogwarts with him. I found out soon enough. "I've never had a pet before," Harry told me. "My aunt Petunia doesn't like animals. She and my uncle Vernon and cousin aren't very friendly. But don't worry, we won't be staying there long. I'm going to wizard school, and you can come with me."

When we arrived at Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry's house, I found out just how terrible his relatives were.

"What is that ruddy pigeon?" A fat man with a bushy mustache asked, who I guessed was his uncle Vernon.

_Pigeon! _I thought indignantly. _I am a snowy owl, for God's sake! Pigeon!" _"This is my owl," Harry said calmly. His cousin Dudley looked a bit jealous.

"Well, you better make sure it stays locked up in your room," A thin woman with a horse-like face added. (Probably that Aunt Petunia.) "I hate animals." "Get out of our sight, boy, before you use those freakish powers." Uncle Vernon said. Dudley snickered.

Geez. Nice family. "Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry sighed.

As soon as we made our way to Harry's bedroom, I could hear Dudley whining, "But _Dad_, I want an owl too!" "You don't want one of those blasted birds!" Uncle Vernon bellowed. "Freaky creatures they are! Aren't they, Petunia, it's bad enough he brought one into our house, it's probably and attack animal..."

"Mummy! Get me an owl!" Dudley shouted, trying his mother. The kid must surely have been used to getting whatever he wanted, and when he didn't, he threw a tantrum. The noise was terrible.

"Don't mind them," Harry said once we were in his room. "They don't understand. They're...muggles, I think that's the word." He sat on his creaky bed and unlatched the door to my cage. He outstretched his arm and I landed on it, like a perch.

Harry left the only window in his room open enough for me to fly out whenever I wanted. I always returned within a few hours-I didn't want Harry to worry that I wouldn't come back. I already loved him and brought him presents-usually dead rats or mice or frogs, though I didn't quite understand why Harry didn't accept them.

For the first time, I was able to soar freely. Whenever I was bored or cramped from sitting in my cage, I just flew out of the cage's door that Harry left ajar for my convenience and out of the open window, flying and hunting. I hunted so much I didn't really eat much of my Owl Pellets, which was okay since they weren't that good. I mean, they were all right, but Owl Pellets just don't compare to the taste a juicy rat or a big frog or something.

I even delievered my first letter! That was something I had been looking forward to doing since...well, since I found as a baby owl (also known as an owlet) at that wizard owl breeding place that that was what owls did. Harry wrote a letter to Hagrid saying he was back home and everything, and to thank him again for his owl and then stuck it in my beak. I flew off, glad to have a job to do. I liked to please Harry. I found Hagrid's hut in no time and was back with another letter in my beak that said in messy writing, _That's great, Harry. Don't mention it. hope the muggles are treating you right. See_ _you in a few weeks. Hagrid_. Harry looked delighted to have recieved a letter, and I felt proud of being able to deliever it to him.

One evening I was relaxing in my cage and looking at the calendar Harry had made to mark down the days until we left for Hogwarts-they're weren't many left-he suddenly looked up from the book he was reading. "Hedwig," he said. "That's what I"m going to call you. I found it in the _A_ _History of Magic_. Do you like it?" A name! I had wondered when Harry was going to name me. The did like the name Hedwig, it was very unusual but very pretty. Anyway, it was a lot better than the names Harry could have called me, like Snowy or Spots or something like that.

Sometimes, when I wasn't hunting or flying or hanging out with Harry for company, I bothered Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. If Dudley was outside, (which was rare, because the fat boy hated excercise) I would fly circles around him, hooting, just to make him envious of me. And Dudley would run screaming into the house: "Mum! Daddy! That owl's trying to...curse me or something!"

It made Harry laugh, but after a few times he said I had to stop doing that. "I don't want Uncle Vernon to put you out."

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't pay to much attention whevener Dudley did that. Aunt Petunia would just say, "I'll fix you some ice cream, popkin," or, "Have some pie, Dudders." To shut Dudley up, because after he stuffed his face with cake he no longer cared. And Uncle Vernon was completley ignoring Harry all together, except for shooting him nasty looks.

The day before we were to leave for Hogwarts, I noticed how anxious Harry was, putting things in his trunk and taking then out again, pacing the floor, forgetting where he had laid a book or a piece of parchment, and digging under his bed for forgotten socks and quills, even though he had already done it several times, rifling through his trunk to make sure everything was there, refolding tomorrow's clothes. I sat on the perch in my cage, watching him intently. I would try to talk to him, but of course humans can't understand owl hoots. (But owls can understand human language. Interesting.) Like, here's what happened when Harry was packing, I'll write it in play form to make this story more interesting:

Harry: (muttering): Where did I put my Potions book? I was reading just before dinner.

Hedwig: (hooting): It's on the dresser, Harry. Can't you see it?

..Five minutes later...

Harry: Oh, here it is.

Hedwig: See

Harry: (muttering) Where did I put my left shoe?

Hedwig: Harry. Please. It's under the bed.

...Five minutes later...

Harry: Oh, it's under the bed

Hedwig: See!

Harry: Hedwig, cut it out. You're distracting me

Well.

Harry clearly doesn't know when his owl, his best friend companion, is trying to help him.

Excuse my irritability. I was just moody because I couldn't go out that day.

"Sorry, Hedwig," Harry had said, shutting the door to my cage. "But we have to leave bright and early tomorrow morning, and what if you're not back in time?" I looked at him reproachfully.

"I didn't mean to be cross at you," Harry said, stroking my head. "I've never had any real friends except you before, because my cousin Dudley was a jerk to them. He's a jerk to everyone, actually. I'm just worried I'm going to be so behind everyone else at Hogwarts. I mean, I just found out I was a wizard a few weeks ago-"

"BOY!" Uncle Vernon bellowed from the next room, making me jump. "WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO!" "No one, just my owl," Harry answered. "THAT IS PATHETIC!" Uncle Vernon yelled back.

"Tomorrow," Harry whispered. "This is the last day we'll have to stay here."

I let out a happy hoot. Hogwarts at last!

tbc


	2. At the Owlery

Chapter 2

At the Owlery

There is nothing more satisfying than after a long hunting trip or a delivering a letter than taking a long rest in the Owlery, which was "home" to me for six years at Hogwarts.

The Owlery is this huge, stone building right outside the Hogwarts castle, with large open windows for the owls to fly out of at their pleasure and little nooks for every owl lined with straw and perches. The ground is covered in straw and owl droppings and is very cold, though owls don't mind the cold.

Most of them, we hung out, talking to each other, sleeping, occasionally heading out for a hunting trip or just to stretch our wings. (We technically didn't even need to hunt, since we were fed twice a day, but no owl wants to eat owl food their whole life.)

Except in the morning. The morning was mail delivery time. All the owls would soar into the Great Hall at breakfast time with letter or small packages clamped in their beaks, and dropped them into the hands or plates or their owners.

I didn't actually deliver a lot of letters that first year of Hogwarts. I mean, come on, I may be an owl, but I honesty didn't expect Harry's, let's just say, less than perfect family to actually send him letters and presents from home.

I often felt sad for Harry, when all the other kids around him were getting send long, fat letters and elaborate gifts and sweets from their parents while he did not. So usually, at mail time, I would pay him a visit anyway, usually giving him an affectionate nudge with my beak. He usually let me nibble some toast or bacon, and then with a hoot, I would head back to the Owlery. I was always glad to see Harry, as he was with me. I'm sure if I were a human and he could understand, I would be chattering a mile a minute. "Hi, Harry! Have a good sleep last night? How did that Potions test go? (Harry often complained about Potions.) Harry, you won't believe all the drama at the Owlery!"  
Oh, yes. Owls have drama, too.

Between the three female tawny owls, who all looked the same except for Artemis' long eyelashes, (Cho Chang's was Artemis; the Patil twinses was Athena; and Pansy Parkinson's was Astrid ), there was always gossip. About the other owls, about the other animals (Mrs. Norris, the caretaker Filch's cat, was especially hated) and about the students most of all. Truthfully, I could never stand for much gossip myself.

And then there was Draco Malfoy's eagle owl, Thorondor, the one I described as being too good for the rest of us. And he was! He was _so_ arrogant; flapping around like he owned the place and talking loudly about the "glories from his past." Now that was really something, because Thor was born in a freaking pet shop.

He would usually convince a few of the gullible school owls to listen to his nonsense, made-up stories that usually made him the hero, but I could never stand it. He was so annoyingly arrogant.

Sometimes visiting owls, usually the parents' owl of students delivering them something, would stop by at the Owlery for some free food and water and to chat, since sometimes it was a long fly and they needed a few hours to a few days to rest before making the long journey home.

One of them was Lady, Neville's gram tired-looking gray screech owl. I really did like Lady. She was old, older than most of us (though not quite as old as Errol, the Weasley family's owl, who spent a lot of time sleeping), but she was very good company and always stayed to talk. And she was there quite a bit, since Mrs. Longbottom didn't trust her grandson and was always sending him letters, making sure he remembered things. One day, though, she came flying right through the Owlery for a quick lap of water and then back again, calling, "Sorry, I can't stay to chat-Neville's gram's sent him a Howler."

Having to deliver a Howler was a dreaded thing among owls, because if you didn't get it to them right away it would start smoking and then screaming with you carrying it in your beak. Once Errol was so startled he dropped the Howler, and the Weasley twins never got it. It took Errol at least a week to recover from that one. Poor Errol was always having to deliever Howlers because the Weasley twins got into trouble at least daily.

But every owl, in my opinion, deserves to get to live at Hogwarts instead of in a owl store or locked in a cage at home. And even wild owls aren't the same as "magic owls". They aren't quite as smart.

So...not that much happened first year...so that's why this chapter kind of sucks...well... that's all for now. I've got to go catch some dinner. (Yep, back at the Dursleys for the summer.)


End file.
